Ghosts That We Knew
by Flow371
Summary: Blaine is tired of constantly fighting the foster kids his family takes in for his parent's attention. Kurt is more damaged than anyone realizes due to a childhood of abuse. What will happen when these two meet?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi! Just before I start this I want to let you know some things...this is going to be AU. Kurt's dad is NOT Burt in this. Though he may make an appearance later...Blaine's going to be a jerk for a while, just a heads up. I got the title from the song by Mumford and Sons of the same name. Don't own it. Hope you enjoy!**

Blaine twirled his spaghetti around his fork uninterestedly as his parents discussed the arrival of yet another foster kid. He couldn't believe they were going through this _again;_ were his parents stupid? No matter how many bad experiences they had his mother insisted they continue fostering, and his father was all for anything that made his wife happy.

But what about his own kids? Sometimes Blaine thought his parents got so caught up in trying to fix other people that they forgot about him and Coop. Coop never seemed to mind, he always clicked with the troubled youths that took up residence in their home. Blaine still hadn't forgiven him for helping that one kid steal his PlayStation 2 and sell it secondhand for beer money. He scowled at the thought.

"Mom, did you get that letter from Mr. Shuster about sectionals?" Blaine asked, trying to steer the conversation to something new. His parents continued conversing as though they didn't hear him. Cooper was texting furiously and unaware of what was going on at the table. "Hellooo, earth to mom, did you hear me?" Blaine's mother glanced at him and held up a finger.

"One second honey."

Blaine sighed loudly but continued eating. He did want to know if she had received the letter, the time for sectionals had changed and instead of being at 2 in the afternoon performances were starting at noon.

"Blaine, sweety, have you gotten your room all ready?" His mom's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Yes mother," Blaine replied, rolling his eyes. If getting his room ready meant checking to see if there were sheets on his other twin bed then yes, it was completely ready. "I still don't see why the kid can't share a room with Coop, for a change."

Mrs. Anderson pursed her lips. "You know Cooper is in college now and needs his own space. Plus Kurt is only a year younger than you. You two could be friends."

Blaine snorted at the thought. _Yeah, right. _Blaine had always held resentment for the kids that came into his home and got all the attention that he should have been receiving. It would be nice for his parents to care about how he was doing for a change. Sure, it was selfish, but it was the truth. Plus Blaine didn't see the point in getting close to someone when he knew they would be leaving within the year, and usually in just a few months.

"Blainers is getting a new roommate!" Cooper said from across the table, his mouth full of spaghetti.

"Shut up Coop."

"Blaine, watch your language," his father reprimanded.

"What? All I said was shut up, it's not like I said 'fuck you,' or something."

"Blaine!" his mother gasped. Cooper chuckled and his father released a weary sigh.

"I don't know where this attitude is coming from, Blaine, but I'm going to have to ask you to go to your room until you can keep it under control."

"Fine," Blaine said, pushing back his chair and leaving the room. Part of him knew he was being stupid and wanted to go back and apologize and finish eating dinner, but his stubbornness won out and he found himself laying on his bed and listening to music, tapping his fingers on the bedspread to the beat.

This time tomorrow there would be some other boy in here with him. Once again, he would be sharing his room with a stranger and he would be expected to do it graciously. Well, screw that. For once he was done being the perfect host and if his parents weren't going to give him any attention, he was going to do something to make them notice.

* * *

Kurt kept his eyes glued out the window as they rode, trying to hide his nerves as the houses flew by on either side. They were in a nice neighborhood, the houses conservatively sized but all with immaculate yards.

He gulped as his social worker, a small and fragile looking lady named Martha Sandlin, put on her blinker and turned into the driveway of a medium sized brick house on the right.

"Are you listening to me, Kurt?" She asked. Kurt shook his head and refocused his gaze onto her.

"Yes ma'am, sorry I zoned out for a second."

"It's quite alright. I was just reminding you that this family has had nothing but positive reports from kids that have stayed here. You don't have anything to worry about," her voice and words were soothing, but Kurt couldn't control his pounding heart and clammy hands. He rubbed them on his jeans.

"Okay," he whispered. After he had been removed from his father's care the year before, Kurt had been bounced between group homes for a few months before being placed semi-permanently in a home just outside of Lima, Ohio. There had been four other kids there, and though they all seemed outraged at their treatment there, Kurt didn't think it was anything out of the ordinary. The place had been shut down after a routine stop by Kurt's social worker, Ms. Martha. Kurt spent a few nights in the hospital and as luck would have it the day of his discharge Ms. Martha had arrived with the news that there was an opening with a local family.

According to what Ms. Martha had told him, the family had two sons. And if that didn't make Kurt nervous enough, one of them was his own age and one was three years older but still living at home and attending a local college. Kurt jumped as the car was placed in park and his hands reached for his seatbelt. He froze when Ms. Martha leaned over and placed one of her hands on his.

"I want to talk to you for a second, Kurt."

He forced his eyes to meet the older woman's. "Alright."

"I want to make sure you know that you can call me if you need anything. You know that, right?" she said, seeming pained.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I mean it Kurt. How your father treated you," Kurt flinched at the mention, "and how that man treated you. That wasn't right. It wasn't okay. Do you understand that?"

Kurt's eyes were wide and his mind was spinning, because why wasn't that okay? What wasn't right about it? But he forced himself to nod anyway.

Ms. Martha sighed. "I'm not sure if you do, Kurt. But I sincerely hope these people will be able to help you see that. Are you ready?"

Kurt nodded once more and hesitantly unbuckled himself and reached for the handle to let himself out of the car. It was awkward with his left arm in a cast and he tried not to jar his ribs as he stepped out of the car. Ms. Martha followed him and together they made their way up the walkway, Kurt's hand clenching his battered black backpack so hard that his knuckles were white. He kept his eyes glued to the ground as Ms. Martha reached up to ring the bell.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I know, it's been AGES since I updated. Hoping that won't happen again, I've already written most of the next chapter. Thank you for the responses so far, you all are the best. :)**

Kurt kept his eyes trained carefully on the ground as the door swung open. He tried not to shift his weight from foot to foot-his dad used to _hate_ it when he fidgeted, but it was a habit he was never quite able to break. He kept his casted left arm close to his chest and tried to keep his breathes even despite his nerves to avoid aggravating his sensitive ribs.

"You must be Kurt," a gentle voice startled him from his thoughts.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"I'm Mrs. Anderson. It's good to finally meet you. We've heard so much about you."

Kurt bit his lip at that, wondering who she had talked to about him. No doubt they had only bad things to say. Unsure of how to respond, he just stayed silent, something he had been doing more and more recently.

"Kurt's very shy," Ms. Martha intervened. She took Kurt by the shoulder (he jumped again) and encouraged him to look up. "Kurt, I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Anderson and their two sons, Cooper and Blaine."

Kurt hesitantly met the eyes of the two adults giving each a quick nod. They both smiled at him encouragingly. Kurt thought the lady looked nice. She was small with dark hair pulled out of her face in a big clip. The man, on the other hand, made Kurt shudder. He was big. Not football player big, but still large enough to hold both of Kurt's small wrists in one hand with room spare.

The older boy stuck his hand out. His hair was casually gelled back and he practically radiated confidence. "Sup, dude. You can call me Coop."

"Okay," Kurt said softly. He pretended not to see the extended hand which Cooper dropped, nonplussed, after a moment without reciprocation.

"Sourpuss over here is Blaine." Cooper gestured at his shorter counterpart who was standing behind his other family members with his arms crossed cross his chest. He gave a dramatic eye roll and sigh but said nothing, not even glancing in Kurt's direction.

"Hi," Kurt said. Blaine snorted in response.

"Come in, come in. I didn't mean to keep you two waiting outside for so long." Mrs. Anderson ushered them inside and through an entry hallway. In the living room there was a large couch and two big, plush chairs gathered around a fireplace. A large flat screen TV was built into the wall above it with the news playing on mute. Kurt's eyes glanced over the pictures crowding all the surfaces of the room. They showcased the two boys at various ages and a few full family shots, all of them grinning widely. Kurt wanted to look closer but knew that it was rude without permission, so he averted his eyes.

"Sit," Mrs. Anderson gestured to one of the big chairs with newly fluffed pillows. Kurt was usually wary of sitting on the furniture, another pet peeve of his father's, but he knew an order when he heard one so he dropped into the chair a little too quickly than was comfortable for his tender midsection.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Anderson frowned at his response but didn't comment on it, instead offering Ms. Martha the seat across from Kurt before squeezing herself on the couch between her husband and scowling younger son. Placing his backpack in his lap to avoid dirtying the carpet, Kurt sat and waited for instruction.

"Well," Ms. Martha began, "you guys are veterans at this so I don't have to explain to you that I'll be checking in on Kurt every so often, sometimes unannounced."

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson nodded.

"Great. And you know if you have any questions or concerns to give me a call. I've got a copy of Kurt's pertinent medical information for you," she continued, passing them a sealed manilla envelope. "Just allergies, medical history, that sort of thing. Kurt's already scheduled for a check up next Friday afternoon, so someone will need to check him out of school for that."

"Of course," Mrs. Anderson said.

"The information's in the file but the doctor said probably six more weeks before the cast can come off."

The Andersons all turned to look at him then, as if they hadn't noticed on first glance the glaringly obvious case of plaster that enclosed his left arm. Kurt blushed furiously.

"And if I could speak to the two of you alone for a moment," Ms. Martha indicated the two Anderson parents, "then I can be out of your hair." The three adults stood to exit the room leaving the kids behind. Ms. Martha stopped to give Kurt's shoulder a squeeze on her way out. "Call me if you need anything Kurt. I mean it."

Knowing a millisecond of eye contact and a small nod was the best response she was going to get, she smiled at Kurt and exited the room. Kurt tried not to strain his ears to hear the hushed conversation in the entry hall.

"Sooo," the elder brother began, "you're going to be a sophomore this year?"

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Well, how old are you?" Cooper asked, leaned back casually into the couch and studying Kurt with his fingers steepled in front of him.

"Sixteen."

"Sophomore it is, then. Blainers here is a Junior." He gave his little brother a shove.

"Stop calling me that," Blaine growled.

"He's so sensitive," Cooper pretended to whisper to Kurt, "especially this time of month." Kurt smiled a little but his posture remained tense. He couldn't remember how to act normally around people his own age, if he had ever known to begin with. And surely he was doing something wrong since Blaine already looked like he wanted nothing to do with him.

* * *

Ugh. Blaine shouldn't be surprised that _already_ Coop had the new kid on his side. Not that there were sides, per se, but if history was anything to go by anyone who hit it off with Cooper was not going to be his biggest fan. He tuned out his brother and instead tried to focus on the conversation taking place right outside of the room.

He couldn't hear much but picked up a few phrases here and there, all concerning how 'fragile,' Kurt was and how 'careful' they had to be with him. Blaine didn't think he could roll his eyes any harder. Minus his broken arm, the kid looked alright to him. Not the picture of health, maybe, but certainly not about to keel over and die on them.

Blaine zoned back in to Cooper as he was rambling on to Kurt whatever came to mind, and the kid looked absolutely fascinated. Cooper could read Hemingway aloud and people would still be enraptured by him. Blaine, on the other hand, was more of a fade into the background kind of guy, but not for long if he could help it.

"So," he finally joined the conversation and tried not to be offended when Kurt flinched at his voice. "We're sharing a room."

"O-okay."

"And I expect you not to touch any of the stuff in there. Even if Coop here tries to convince you otherwise, it's _mine."_ Coop threw his hands up and tried to act innocent when Kurt looked at him, bewildered. "If I'm sleeping don't wake me up. I won't be happy."

"See what I told you? Mood-dy." Cooper cut in.

"Lastly," Blaine ignored him. "Don't talk to me or about me at school. I already have friends there and I don't need you to ruin that for me."

"Geez, Blaine, don't you think that's a little harsh?"

"No. Not after last time." Coop had the decency to look a little ashamed at that. Ashley, the girl who had left a few months ago, had collaborated with Cooper and come up with some oh so hilarious rumors to spread about him; his reputation was still recovering.

Blaine noticed the fingers of Kurt's right hand twisting the strap of his backpack around them vigorously as he nodded. "I won't mess with your stuff, I'm very neat. You won't have to worry about me at school either."

Feeling a stab of guilt at the way Kurt jumped at the opportunity to please him, he nodded his head and turned. The sound of the front door closing signaled to them that Ms. Martha had made her exit and Blaine chose this as an opportune time to escape to his room for his last few minutes of solitude.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt knocked on the door and waited almost a full minute for a response from inside. His bag dangled awkwardly from his right hand and he worried his lip between his teeth when there was no response. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had gone to bed after directing him to the room he would be sharing with Blaine. Kurt had just spent almost a full hour with the couple, going over everything from who normally cooks breakfast in the mornings to how to break out the back window in case of a fire.

Kurt fidgeted through the whole conversation but tried his hardest to listen and remember all of the information. He knew adults hated it when they had to repeat themselves. So far the couple seemed nice, but Kurt knew better than to trust them.

"You going to come in, or what?" The voice jarred Kurt from his thoughts, and he shook his head before entering the room. It was clean, something that Kurt hadn't expected. There were twin beds, each with the same brown down comforter and sheets tucked in neatly. There was a window on the right side of the room with a desk underneath it, books and papers scattered across it. A dresser was on the other wall, and there were two doors. Kurt guessed one would lead to a bathroom, and the other a closet. Blaine was sprawled across one bed with his laptop open in front of him. He had ear buds in but had taken one out and was looking at Kurt expectantly. Kurt stepped in and dropped his bag on the empty bed.

"So," Blaine started. "I cleared out the bottom two drawers of the dresser for you, and there's some empty space in the closet for your shoes and stuff."

"Thank you," Kurt replied.

"Don't thank me, my mom made me do it," Blaine rolled his eyes. "If it was up to me, I wouldn't have to share my room with every stray that comes through the door." Kurt flinched, but didn't say anything. It was understandable after all. Kurt had no doubt that he would be out of here by Christmas, no one seemed to want to put up with him in the long term. Even his own father couldn't be bothered to deal with him. "Like I said, don't mess with my stuff. Mom put your school things over there," he gestured to the bedside table. "There's not room for two desks in here so we've got to share that one."

"Okay."

"I do my schoolwork right when I get home, so you can have it when I finish," Blaine continued, now his attention was fully focused on his computer but he kept talking like he had given this speech 100 times. "I shower in the morning before school, so you can either wake up before me or do it at night."

Kurt scratched his head and nodded. Everything was harder with this stupid cast and it took him forever to wrap it up and take a shower. He was exhausted and didn't feel like dealing with it tonight so he would just have to get up early. He hardly slept as it was so that shouldn't be a problem.

"Any questions?" Blaine asked, glancing up.

"No," Kurt shook his head.

"Do you ever say more than two words at a time?" Blaine snorted. Kurt's face reddened but he didn't know how to respond, so he just didn't say anything. Blaine just stuck his other earbud in and proceeded to ignore Kurt, who set about unpacking.

He started by unzipping his bag, which was a task in and of itself with only one hand. Finally it was open, and Kurt dumped his stuff on the bed. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Blaine's head bobbed to music Kurt couldn't hear, and his fingers tapped away on the keyboard, obviously talking to someone.

Starting with his clothes, Kurt folded them as best as he could. He pulled open the dresser, which was adjacent to his bed, and placed them in the bottom drawer. Right now he only had two pairs of jeans and a handful of T shirts to his name. There was a pang in his chest when Kurt remembered all the clothes his father had ruined in his rage. All of his fashionable, _girly_ stuff had been torn to shreds in his last blowout. Kurt shuddered and forced his thoughts elsewhere. The last thing he wanted was to have one of his panic attacks his first night here, with his roommate who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

Kurt picked up the picture that had fluttered to his bed with the rest of his stuff, studying it. His face, ten years younger, is grinning gap toothed back at him. A woman with long, flowing blonde hair has her hand on his shoulder and her mouth open in a laugh. It is the only picture of his mother that he has. He places it carefully in the drawer of his bedside table.

Sitting on the bed, he reaches down to untie his shoelaces. Once he slips his shoes off he steps over to the closet. Inside are a few rows of carefully hung clothes. Button downs, cardigans, and slacks. Kurt runs his hand wistfully across them before bending down to place his shoes in the corner. He stuffs his bag underneath the bed and takes the remainder of his stuff and a clean T shirt to the bathroom.

Finally alone for the first time in hours, Kurt let out a sigh. Being around people constantly made him jumpy and nervous. His ribs had been sore all day, and Kurt was finally allowing himself to show it. He grimaced and tried to breathe steadily as he wrestled his shirt off with one hand. The bruises still looked nasty. They were purpling with green around the edges and covered almost his entire torso. Kurt splashed his face with water. He spent a few minutes doing his bedtime ritual before pulling on a clean T-shirt and slipping his pants off, leaving him in boxers. He gathered up all his stuff before stepping out of the bathroom.

The site that met him was unexpected. Blaine was shirtless, with his back to Kurt digging through his dresser. Though Blaine didn't look like a particularly threatening guy, Kurt could see enough to know he should be wary of him. His muscles rippled as he moved and there wasn't a blemish of his skin on his back. Kurt would be ashamed for him to see the scars that criss crossed his body. He wrapped his good arm around his torso and cleared his throat so Blaine would know he was there.

Blaine immediately whirled around. "Whoa, creep much?" He said. Kurt tried his hardest to avert his eyes, but despite all of his father's conditioning he was _gay_, for crying out loud.

"Sorry," Kurt stepped around him to get to his bed. Blaine didn't say anything but slammed the door to the bathroom when he went in, making Kurt jump. Kurt settled into his bed, which was cozy with the heavy comforter on top of him. He waited for Blaine to come out of the bathroom before gathering up the courage to voice his concern.

"Erm, Blaine," he started hesitantly.

"What?" Blaine asked, looking surprised that Kurt had said anything at all.

"Do you mind if we leave the bathroom light on?"

"Please don't tell me you're afraid of the dark," Blaine rolled his eyes. Kurt bit his lip.

"I would just feel better if-"

"Whatever," Blaine cut in. "Just don't tell Coop or he'll rib you about it forever." Kurt nodded, wide eyed. Had Blaine just given him advice? They didn't exchange any other words as Blaine got into bed and switched off the lamp, rolling over so he was facing the wall.

**A/N: I'M SORRY. It has been literally half a year since I updated, to be honest I had forgotten all about this story. To make it up to you I'll post another chapter by Tuesday if there's still any readers! Hope this chapter wasn't too boring - it was a bit of a filler.**


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine woke up to the sound of the shower running. He squinted his eyes at the light streaming through the blinds with only one thing on his mind: coffee. Stumbling from his bed, he ran a hand through his unruly hair and made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen. As usual, both of his parents were up sipping on their own cups, passing the paper back and forth with the news on low.

"Morning, Blaine," his mother said. He grunted in response. "Did you and Kurt have a good night last night?" Blaine grunted again. He wrapped both of his hands around his steaming mug after dumping in a generous amount of cream and sugar.

"We know this is hard on you, having people coming and going all the time."

"I know the spiel, Dad. I don't need to hear it agai -"

"No, Blaine. It's really important that you understand this."

Blaine sighed, dropping into a bar stool and resigning himself to hearing the talk for the millionth time. This was the part where they talked about how much Kurt had been through, and how much it would mean to him to have some stability in his life, a friend even. He always left that part up to Coop, and tried to stay out of the way of their scheming antics.

"Kurt has been through a lot," cue eye roll, "more than anyone his age - or _any _age - should have to endure. You're such a sweet boy," Blaine held back a grimace. What kind of teenage boy wanted to be told he was _sweet? _If they had heard the way he talked to Kurt last night they wouldn't think he was sweet. That gave him the smallest bit of satisfaction. "And we would really appreciate it if you put in a little extra effort with Kurt."

"With you two being so close in age, we thought it would be good if you got to spend some time together," Blaine's mom was talking now, and he did not like the direction this was heading in.

"Mom, we're already sharing a bathroom and soon to be school. How much more time is there?"

"Let me finish, Blaine. Ms. Martha also thought it would be good for Kurt to get to interact with kids his own age, and I assured her your friends were all very nice. We talked to Kurt about it last night and he's agreed to join the Glee club with you."

"What!?" Blaine blurted out, suddenly awake despite the lack of caffeine in his system. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am. We know how much you love the club and thought you might want to share it with someone."

"Glee club is my thing, Mom. _Mine_. I don't want to share it with one of your pity projects!" Blaine knew he was being irrational, but he couldn't help the anger that was boiling through his system. The Glee club was the one place where people actually payed attention to him, people actually liked him_._ And he was one of the best singers in the club. He wasn't overshadowed by his stupid older brother, or the stupid foster kids that paraded in and out of their lives.

"Blaine!" His mother started, looking shocked.

"That's no way to talk to your mother, or to me, mister," Blaine's father began, looking sternly over his paper.

"Oh, please. Like you care how I talk to you. You never listen to a word I say anyway."

"Someone's PMSing early this morning," Cooper strolled into the room, already dressed with a bag in his hand, reaching for the loaf of bread. Blaine raked a hand through his curly hair in annoyance.

"Cooper, not now," Mr. Anderson stated. "And Blaine. Your behavior last night and today has been disappointing. I look forward to hearing about Kurt's first day this evening, and expect to hear only good things."

Standing from his bar stool, Blaine grabbed his coffee mug and stalked out of the room, ignoring the sting in his hand as the coffee sloshed over the edge. He fumed as he stomped up the stairs and into his room. Kurt stared at him as he entered, his chestnut hair dripping onto the neckline of his T shirt and his arm cast still wrapped up in some ridiculous looking plastic bag from his shower.

"What are you looking at," he finally snapped, and Kurt flinched. He shrunk into himself as Blaine brushed past him and slammed the door to the bathroom.

ooo

Kurt should have known better than to expect any different from this family. The night before Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had been so kind to him, making him feel at home, but now it was clear to him that Blaine was the real threat in the family.

He clearly had a temper and, with muscles like that, it was only a matter of time before that temper manifested itself as violence. Kurt just hoped that Blaine would hold out until his arm and his ribs heeled, because they both still hurt like a bitch. Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that one of the boys from the group home had nicked his prescribed pain killers from his bag before making the trip here, because he couldn't find them anywhere.

Standing in front of the mirror, Kurt looked over his appearance for his first day of school. His blue jeans were baggy and held up by a belt cinched tight around his small waist. A plain gray T shirt covered his torso. He normally would have preferred long sleeves, but his cast was too bulky so he had to settle on leaving his scrawny arms exposed. He kept himself from staring longingly at Blaine's closet full of soft, colorful clothing and instead focused on stuffing his feet into his beat up trainers. Grabbing his towel, Kurt rubbed his hair dry one last time before heading to the door.

The rest of the Anderson family was in the kitchen, so Kurt figured this was where he should go to wait on further instructions.

"Kurt!" Mrs. Anderson was the first to notice him. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, ma'am." Kurt replied. He had slept better than usual, and whenever he awoke in a cold sweat from a nightmare he stared at the light seeping out from the cracked bathroom door and was comforted.

"I'm glad. We've got toast, cereal, and bagels for breakfast. I'm afraid nothing gourmet this early in the morning. What would you like?"

"Um. Whatever's easiest." Kurt's heart beat faster. He hoped that was the right response. He was grateful to be getting food at all but having a choice was a little overwhelming. He was twisting his hands together nervously when Cooper saved him from further decisions.

"Crap, I'm going to be late. Take mine," he shoved the freshly toasted bagel across the table to Kurt, who took it with a look of relief. "See ya later, squirt!" Cooper winked at him before darting out the door, waving his parents goodbye.

They settled into silence as they ate, broken by Mr. Anderson leaving for work, kissing his wife on the cheek and giving Kurt a friendly clap on the shoulder.

"Have a good day, sweetheart," Mrs. Anderson called. She then turned her attention to Kurt. "I'm going to come with you and Blaine to school today, just to make sure everything is in order for you," she informed him. "I think you'll be testing this morning, and meeting with the counselors to get your schedule straightened out in the afternoon. Starting tomorrow everything should be normal."

She smiled at him, and Kurt tried to smile back. He didn't exactly have the best school history. He was always missing school for days or weeks at a time, and his past grades were far from stellar. He probably wasn't smart enough to be in classes with his age group.

"We told Blaine that you would be joining him for Glee club this afternoon, so he can fill you in on that," Kurt gulped and nodded. At first he was excited at the idea of singing again, but now he was more nervous than anything. Especially since it would mean more time with Blaine, a ticking time bomb. "Speaking of Blaine, you all ready?"

Blaine stood in the doorway, hand clenching his book bag. His previously wild hair had been tamed with what Kurt could only assume was a mountain of hair gel. He was looking anywhere other than at Kurt. "Yeah, let's go."

**A/N: Wow thanks for the response guys! I promise Blaine isn't going to be this bitchy forever. He's just needy.**


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